


The Problem with Lap Naps

by Quipstaff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bickering, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fluff, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21860950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quipstaff/pseuds/Quipstaff
Summary: After Linhardt declares Caspar's thighs aren't soft enough to nap on, Caspar tries to figure out why that bothers him so much. Neither of them are very good at the whole feelings thing.
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 5
Kudos: 163





	The Problem with Lap Naps

**Author's Note:**

> It's Golden Deer route not for any particular plot reasons but mostly because I felt that suit the tone better.
> 
> This was originally supposed to be not much longer than a drabble of a silly scene I got in my head, but I got a bit carried away.

It had been a long training session, and the sweat dripped down the back of Caspar's neck as his chest heaved to fill itself with oxygen. Exhilaration fought exhaustion in a way he couldn't entirely reconcile. He was so pumped at how well that went he felt he could fight an entire army, but at the same time he felt that if didn't sit down immediately he'd pass out. Not-passing-out won, and he sat down at the edge of the training grounds, gulping down water from a flask like he'd just discovered water existed. 

He eyed the others training at the time. It was the usual crowd; Felix, Ingrid, recruited like he was to the Alliance, and Raphael. Most of the others didn't train as much or trained outside the training grounds. There were observers too - he'd seen Ignatz making sketches, and another green-haired guy who didn't take part himself -

"Caspar, hold still would you?" 

Caspar looked up at Linhardt, almost grateful for the shade the taller man's form cast. "Huh?" 

That shade lasted not nearly long enough as Linhardt sat down next to Caspar, yawning widely. "I want to try an experiment." 

Caspar eyed his friend suspiciously, wondering what kind of experiment he could mean. "It's not like I still don't have a Crest, so what -" 

Linhardt waved an impatient hand. "No, no, nothing like that. Just hold still."

"Alright…?" 

With lackadaisical fluidity, Linhardt shifted until he was lying on Caspar, using his outstretched legs as a place to rest his head.

Caspar hardly believed his cheeks could get more warm than they already were from the exercise. "What do you think you're doing?" 

"Shush," said Linhardt, closing his eyes, "I just want a little nap."

"You _always_ want a nap."

"Please?"

Caspar squeezed his lips shut, feeling like he should object or shove Linhardt off but he was too tired and it's not like he _minded_ , really. After all, they were friends, right? His heart seemed to be beating oddly fast, but that was probably just leftover from the training.

He looked down at Linhardt on his lap, tactically placed so he wouldn't be brushing up against any armour, seemingly content. 

_Wow,_ Caspar found himself thinking, _he's way prettier now._

They had lost touch somewhat in the years since the academy. There was a war going on, after all. Finding out that Linhardt had also returned to the monastery after those five years had been welcome and unexpected, especially considering that to do so meant they had both abandoned the Empire. Reunited, they had quickly become friends again, especially since they had something new to bond over. But even then, everything had been so hectic and busy after that, Caspar had never quite been able to have a moment to really take in how much they had both changed in that time. Well, he'd noticed Linhardt's hair was nicer before, since he'd gotten distracted during a war council with the sudden desire to brush it. He had actually forgotten about that particular urge until now, but it took a bit of restraint to keep his fingers from brushing through those locks. 

With Linhardt's head in his lap and the ability to just stare at him, Caspar couldn't stop thinking about how pretty he was. No, handsome? Handsome and pretty? A bit of both, he decided. Caspar didn't think he cared about that kind of thing. He didn't feel any particular desire to be pretty himself. Maybe handsome, but it wasn't really high up on his concerns. So it wasn't as if he was envying Linhardt's looks. They were just striking, all of a sudden. Maybe he was so taken aback by it because he had eyes. Who wouldn't notice the curve of his jaw, or how smooth his skin was, or that content little smile? 

He shook his head rapidly, as if he could fling the thoughts off like a dog shaking off water. But apparently he disturbed his companion because at the motion Linhardt sat up rather abruptly, eyes opening. 

"No, not quite right. You move too much and your thighs aren't soft enough."

Caspar bristled. "What do you mean they're not soft enough? Lie back down and try them again!" 

"No, no. It's not going to work." Linhardt stood up and looked around before spotting another target sitting nearby, beside Ignatz. "Now, Raphael… his thighs look big enough to be pillows."

"Hold on a minute -" Caspar scrambled to his feet. 

Nearby, Ingrid and Felix had stopped their post-training conversation to stare at the kerfuffle, and Raphael and Ignatz had looked up at Linhardt's approach. Caspar became immediately aware of how public this all was.

"Raphael, allow me to use your bulk as a cushion for my nap."

It was amazing how Linhardt could just ask such a thing with a straight face, Caspar thought. 

"Sure, buddy, why not?" Raphael patted his thigh. 

"What!?" Caspar squeaked as Linhardt settled down. "You're just going to agree to it?" 

Raphael looked at him, vaguely puzzled. "Aw, if the little guy wants to have a nap on me, who am I to say no?" 

Little guy? What kind of person would think the rather tall Linhardt was a 'little guy'? Then again, it was Raphael, a giant. Raphael, whose thighs, he had to admit, were probably as thick as Caspar's whole body. 

He looked at Ignatz, hoping for some support, but he was very determinedly burying himself in his sketches. 

"Caspar," pitched in Linhardt, who settled down on Raphael's lap, "You're being ridiculous." 

" _I'm_ being ridiculous?!" He didn't even know why he was so indignant, but that never stopped him before. "Just you wait -" 

"Can you be quieter? I can hardly nap when you're being so loud."

Caspar lowered his voice and said, "Just you wait, I'm going to bulk up and have ridiculously pillowy thighs!" 

Behind him came the sound of a snort. Felix or Ingrid? He didn't care. 

Raphael pumped his fist, also keeping his voice low, albeit badly. "Yeah, that's the spirit!" 

"I don't understand why you're taking this so personally," murmured Linhardt, eyes already closed. 

"Ugh, whatever, have a nice nap." 

Caspar turned on his heel and pushed past Felix and Ingrid, refusing to look at them. He left the training grounds in a huff, and found himself storming across the courtyard. 

He was so... so... something. What was he feeling? Why was this bothering him so much? Whatever adrenaline it filled him with was wearing off, reminding him of how tired he was from training. 

He turned a corner, wobbling, and tripped right into Hilda.

She looked like she wanted to give him what-for, but stopped, peering at his face. "Whoa! What's with you?"

"Sorry, Hilda, I -" Caspar stopped, rubbing the back of his head. Good question. "What _is_ with me?" 

"That's literally what I just asked." Hilda stopped, peering into his face. "Hey, are you okay? You look kind of flushed."

"I'm..." Caspar didn't understand why he was all riled up. He got riled up really easily, that was true, but he usually knew exactly what he was getting riled up about. Usually it got him into a fight. "I don't know."

"...Huh. Well, okay then."

"Hilda." That was someone else coming around the corner. The professor. "I was told you needed to -" 

"Oh no, professor, I'm kinda busy at the moment. See? Look at this guy." Hilda spun Caspar around to show him off like a sick puppy. "I'm… taking poor Caspar here to the Dining Hall to see if that makes him feel better! So I'm occupied." 

"..." 

Caspar blinked. "I'm fine -" 

"You're clearly _not_ fine. Now come on. Bye, professor!" 

The professor watched them go with a dispassionate gaze as Hilda led Caspar away by the elbow, who dutifully let himself get pulled along. 

Caspar went over the last ten minutes in his head, trying to figure out why he was so flustered. He barely noticed when Hilda pushed him down into a chair, using the opportunity to lean his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. 

A couple of minutes later, Hilda shoved a plate of food in front of him. He looked up at her. 

"You're not eating anything."

"I already ate. But I'm not here for _me_ , I'm here for you!" 

Caspar squinted at her innocent face. "What did the professor want you to do?" 

She waved it off. "I was supposed to catalogue supplies but this is much more important, whatever… this is." Caspar must have made a face because she quickly added, "Look, I'm being serious. I may not know what you're all worked up about, but it's weird seeing you like this. I mean, without someone nearby you're obviously about to punch." 

He groaned. "It's not that I want to _fight_ anybody--"

"For once."

Caspar ignored that. "I guess I just got really mad over nothing."

" _Are_ you mad? Because you seem more like, I don't know, embarrassed or something." 

"Maybe," said Caspar. Maybe he was embarrassed Linhardt tried to take a nap on his lap and he projected that onto Raphael. That didn't sound right, though. 

"What happened?" 

Caspar explained, with Hilda interjecting with an occasional "Uh huh," and "No, really?". (He left out the part in the middle where he thought about how pretty Linhardt was for five minutes.) 

When he was done, Hilda frowned. "Okay, so he didn't want to use you as a cushion after all? I don't understand why you seem so upset about this."

"Neither do I!" 

"Right, well, you talked a lot about what happened but not what you were feeling. When did you get so…" She waved a hand at him. 

"Well, he said I wasn't soft enough and I got insulted."

"...Sure." Hilda looked like she wasn't even going to try to figure that one out. 

"Then he went over to Raph, and that really bothered me."

"Why?" 

"Because…" Caspar frowned, thinking back. "I don't know, it felt bad. Like my stomach was twisting and my throat felt tight and I just felt. I felt like…" He rubbed the side of his face. "Like I wasn't good enough."

Hilda looked at him with an odd expression. Pity? Amusement? 

"Caspar, were you _jealous_?" 

Caspar frowned. "I mean, maybe a little. But I learned when we were students that there's no way I'm gonna be as big as him, even if I _did_ bulk up, no matter what I said about pillowy thighs. There's no point getting jealous over his muscles!" 

Hilda rolled her eyes. "No, silly. Not jealous about that."

Caspar rubbed a temple. "Huh?" 

In a voice that said _it's taking all of my effort to be patient right now_ , she said, "Jealous about Linhardt. You know, that kind of jealous."

Caspar stopped. He thought about it for a moment, processing the possibility. It all clicked into place. He slammed a palm down on the table, making Hilda jump a little. 

"That's it! You're right! I _was_ feeling jealous!" That made everything make sense! 

Wait. 

That made everything make sense. 

If he was feeling jealous, then that would mean he had what maybe could be called _feelings_. Feelings that he has been trying to avoid thinking about for a while. Feelings that could make their friendship much more complicated.

"No, hold on, I'm not - I can't be - oh no."

Hilda covered her mouth with a hand, giggling. "Goddess, you're dense, aren't you?" 

"Shut up! I'm not dense, I'm just… slow." 

"That's called being dense."

"Whatever, thanks for the talk, I gotta go." Caspar stood up. 

"Wait, no," said Hilda, glancing over to where the professor was talking to Leonie nearby. "You haven't even eaten your pheasant!" 

"I need to go - uh, I need to go think about this. Alone. Yeah, that's a good idea. See you later, Hilda!" 

"Come on," Hilda called after him as he turned to go, "At least give me the details later! _Cas_ par, I want that juicy gossip!" 

Caspar gave her a wave as the professor peeled off talking to Leonie to head over to Hilda. There was no escape from work for her now. But that wasn't his problem. He had a whole new problem to deal with. 

He was starting to think he had fallen for Linhardt. 

* * *

"No, ugh, your muscles are too dense. It's like trying to sleep on rocks." Linhardt sat up again, shaking his head at the new failure. 

On top of that, Caspar had only just left, and Linhardt felt some strange sense of guilt over that. 

"That's right! My muscles are so dense I'd probably sink in water, hah!" Raphael wasn't nearly as bothered by being rejected as a pillow as Caspar had just been. 

Ingrid was standing nearby with her arms crossed. "You better not suggest you try me next."

Linhardt looked up at her, shaking his head. "No, I think I'll go find an actual pillow to nap on."

She sighed at that. "Why are you here again? Because you're clearly not here to train."

"The reason he's here just left." Felix, beside Ingrid, wasn't looking at Linhardt but rather the doors Caspar had just left through. His tone was cold. His tone was always cold, admittedly, but it still made Linhardt wince internally. He tried not to let it show, though.

"Is that what you think?" 

Felix looked back at him, shrugging. "You're pretty cruel, you know that, right?" 

His eyebrows knit together. "Cruel? How?" 

"Teasing him like that."

Again, a pang of guilt. "I wasn't teasing him."

Ingrid and Raphael looked between them, caught up in the conversation.

"I'm not sure if what you did was teasing, exactly," said Ignatz, a little bit gingerly, finally looking up from his drawing. "But maybe you could have, um, thought about his feelings?"

Linhardt stood up, stretching. "Alright, I'll go… apologize? Explain myself? Compliment his thighs? What am I supposed to do, again?" 

"I'm confused," said Raphael. 

"He's being obtuse on purpose," said Felix. 

Ignatz patted the big guy's shoulder. "It's really none of our business anyway."

"Ignatz is right." Ingrid crossed her arms. "Let's just leave it."

Felix grabbed his practice sword where it was leaning against a pillar. "Whatever. He's a grown man, he can use his words."

Felix was, Linhardt thought, rather astute. He had always thought it was a shame Felix only seemed to turn that mind of his to violence, but now that it was directed towards Linhardt's affairs he couldn't say he cared for it. "Very well, I'll go _use my words_."

He left the training grounds, taking his time. Linhardt was in no hurry for this conversation. He slowly wandered around the monastery, not sure where Caspar had even gone. 

Felix had been right; he was in the training grounds because Caspar was there. Caspar would often ask for his advice after his training, which Linhardt found gratifying, even if they inevitably ended up bickering about it. That wasn't the only reason he'd been coming a lot recently to watch Caspar train, though. 

Caspar had a habit of pushing himself too hard, either with training or getting into an actual brawl with someone. Linhardt had noticed him coming from training with more and more scrapes and bruises, things that a certain friend at hand were perfectly capable of healing but getting a little tired of having to do so. But if Linhardt was there in person, then maybe he could help the problem in a more _preventative_ way. 

And he also went, he had to admit, because he enjoyed watching Caspar at his most enthusiastic, not to mention sweaty and breathless. It was something of a guilty pleasure.

Felix was incorrect in assuming Linhardt was teasing him cruelly, though, at least not on purpose.

What had happened was this. Caspar had gone overboard again, though without hurting himself this time, but Linhardt could tell he was exhausted. Linhardt knew Caspar - the guy would have a drink of water and think he was ready to go another round when he very much wasn't. Linhardt had simply wanted a way to make sure Caspar stayed still long enough for a real, actual break. It was a dumb idea, really. He had theorized it would be like when a cat curls up on one's lap, making movement impossible lest one wakes the animal. But he had miscalculated. There was something he hadn't taken into account. 

It had been really… nice. 

Caspar wasn't a good pillow, that was true, but the rare moment of intimacy was extremely pleasant. And Caspar had actually gone quiet. Linhardt could have actually drifted off just then, content with just the two of them together like that. 

Unfortunately they were not alone. It wasn't necessarily that he cared what anyone thought, but he didn't care for all those eyes on them. It felt like the others were intruding, in a way, just by being there. And what about Caspar? He hadn't objected or pushed him off, like he'd surmised, but what if Caspar wasn't enjoying the moment the same way he was? Maybe it had been impulsive. He hadn't been thinking straight. 

Linhardt wasn't exactly particularly in touch with his emotions, but he took them as they came. It was rare that he was thrown by them, but for a moment he had the thought _not here, not now_ , and then _I need plausible deniability_. Ergo, not make it seem like Caspar had been singled out.

In the end, he had shone a spotlight on what he had hoped to avoid attention for. He never was very good at taking the human factor into account. 

Anyway, he still had no idea where Caspar was, and he had been wandering for a while, lost in thought. He was getting a bit worried. That was when Hilda spotted him. 

"Linhardt!" 

Looking over, it was clear she was doing some tedious, time-consuming task like cataloging supplies. He started walking faster. "I'm not doing whatever it is you're doing for you, Hilda." 

"No, don't be silly," she said, coming over and trying to match his pace, "If there's anyone in this place better at dodging work than me, it's you."

"I'm glad you noticed. I'd ask what it is that you want, then, but I don't really care. I'm in the middle of looking for someone."

"Caspar?" 

He stopped, focusing on her. "How did you -" 

"I was just talking to him! You know you really -" 

He interrupted her. "Where did he go?" 

"Back towards the dorms, I think, but -" 

He immediately turned tail and started heading in the other direction. "Thanks."

Hilda stomped her foot. "I'm trying to say something!" 

"I don't care. Bye, Hilda."

At least she wasn't following him. "You have got to tell me how this turns out, Linhardt! I swear to the goddess if neither of you dish I'll be really mad!" 

"Good _bye_ , Hilda."

He heard her huff and return reluctantly to her work. But he really didn't want to hear what she had to say. He was almost frightened, as silly as that sounded. What if Caspar had been doing nothing but complain about him? What if she was going to scold him? He was being ridiculous. All this over nothing! 

He arrived at the dorms, which really should have been the first place he should have checked but he had been kind of avoiding them. He climbed up the stairs to the upper floor with a grumble. The _commoners_ didn't have to have whole minutes lost to stairs when they wanted to go to bed. Being a noble was such a hassle. 

Caspar's room. He just had to knock on the door. Use his words. What would he even say? _Sorry I implied your thighs weren't pillowy enough for me._ Ugh. 

Knock on the door, simple. Easy. He wasn't too lazy for that, especially since he already came all this way. 

Right. 

Any time now. 

Come on, Linhardt, don't be a baby. There was a whole war going on, this couldn't be any harder than getting himself to go to battle. 

He lifted his hand, but there were sudden noises behind the door. Linhardt stopped, fist raised, trying to figure out what he was hearing. Was he okay in there…? 

Suddenly the door swung open and Caspar was there, frozen at the sight of Linhardt. 

"Ah…" Linhardt still didn't know what to say. 

"Oh --" At least Caspar wasn't any more eloquent. 

Linhardt scrambled to think of something to say when he noticed Caspar was holding something. "What's that?" 

Caspar immediately hid it behind his back. "What, this? It's uh, it's nothing! Forget about it, don't worry about it!"

"It looked like a letter," said Linhardt, clinging to his confusion as it gave him something to say. 

"What? A letter? Why would I have a letter?" Caspar was turning pink. 

This mostly just blindsided Linhardt. "People write letters, Caspar. All the time. What I don't understand is why you're trying to hide it. That's far more suspicious than simply carrying a letter casually."

He tried to peer around Caspar to see, but his friend dodged the attempt. "Okay, you know what, that's fair. I was caught off guard seeing you here - wait, why _are_ you here?" 

"I -" Linhardt desperately wanted to know what the letter was about but now it was back to this again. "I wanted to apologize. For earlier." 

Caspar looked confused. " _You_ wanted to apologize? But you didn't do anything wrong!" 

"... Pardon?" 

"I was the one who should apologize! I made a huge deal out of nothing!" Caspar clenched his fists in front of him, apparently forgetting about the letter as it was subsequently crushed. "... Aw man."

Linhardt looked at it. He recognized some of those letters on the envelope. "Is that for me?" 

"Yeah, I uh, I wanted to write you an apology but it kind of turned into something else…" Caspar's cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. 

"You don't need to apologize, Caspar."

"But I - I was being dumb."

"So was I." Linhardt sighed, shaking his head. "We're not schoolchildren anymore, this is silly. We have much bigger things to worry about."

"I don't know." Caspar rubbed the back of his head. "With everything that's happened, it's almost nice having a weird tiff over something harmless."

Linhardt snorted. "I'll concede that."

Caspar smiled weakly at him. "Friends?" 

Linhardt nodded. "Friends."

That weak smile turned into a grin, and like the first beams of sunlight hitting a book through the window after an all-nighter, Linhardt thought, _I got in far too deep_. 

He smiled back, dimly aware that his heart felt like it was being squeezed. "Raphael wasn't at all comfortable anyway, I much preferred you." 

Caspar gave a curious laugh, different from his normal ones, as if he was nervous somehow. "Well, you can take a nap on me anytime!" 

That was actually incredibly appealing, so Linhardt steered away from that particular direction in the conversation. "So, were you going to give me the letter…?" 

Caspar froze, staring at the crumpled letter in his hand. "... No? No, I was going to put it under your doorway."

Linhardt raised an eyebrow. "That seems inefficient, given that you can simply give it to me right here."

"I can't! Why do you care, we already made up! It's… it's redundant now! Why do you want to read it anyway?" 

"I'm curious." He tilted his head. "Why are you so determined I don't read something written for me?" 

"I wasn't supposed to be there when you read it! I was going to slide it under your door!" 

Linhardt was dying of curiosity now. "That's silly."

Caspar buried his face in his empty hand. "It's embarrassing, okay?" 

Well now, if he was going to cover his face, he might not see Linhardt's hand sneaking forward and - there! He pulled it from Caspar's grip. 

"Hey!" Caspar tried to get it back, but Linhardt used his superior height to keep it out of his reach. "You're cheating!" 

It was a struggle opening the letter while simultaneously keeping it away from Caspar, all in the tiny dorm hallway but Linhardt eventually managed to do it. 

"...This is four pages long."

"I _said_ it kind of turned into something else!"

"It's been, what, half an hour?"

"I got back to my room and started writing and couldn't… stop." Caspar let out a little whine. "Why aren't you too lazy to read all that for once? Please give it back." 

Linhardt paused, looking into Caspar's face. He did seem like he genuinely didn't want Linhardt to read it. 

So Linhardt shoved it back into his hands. "Okay."

"... Okay?" Caspar looked between the pages of the letter and Linhardt's face. 

"If you changed your mind and don't want me to read it then I respect your choice."

Caspar bit his lip, staring down at the pages. "Right. Um. Thanks." 

"I don't want to hurt you, Caspar, it would break my heart." There, he used his words. 

Caspar's face went through several different emotions that Linhardt wasn't sure how to categorize before he held the letter back out. "You can read it."

Linhardt rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I just said I don't want to read it if you don't want me to." 

"I want you to."

Something had changed in Caspar's tone - it was firm now. Certain. Linhardt knew he meant it. 

He began to read. It started out as a rambling apology for "throwing a temper tantrum over something stupid", but as Linhardt read on, he pressed a hand to his mouth. It kept going, a long, rambling train of thought, all about Linhardt. By the second page, Linhardt realized what exactly it was that he was reading. 

"Caspar…"

Caspar had been spending the time he was reading alternating between desperately watching Linhardt for a reaction and looking at his shoes, which was very distracting. At his name, though, he jumped. "What is it?" 

"Caspar, this…" 

Linhardt's heart was beating hard enough to burst.

"This is a _love letter_." 

It was there, dripping from every word, every phrase, every paragraph. It read as though Caspar had been working out his own feelings on the page, which was very confusing, but the overwhelming impression was a deepness of affection that completely bowled him over. The longer it went on, the more certain it was.

Caspar paused, taking a deep breath. "Yeah." 

"This is wonderful." And Linhardt meant it, and not just because it was extremely flattering.

"Really?" Caspar sounded surprised, yet distinctly hopeful. 

He pointed to a particular sentence. "Also, it says here you would be open to kissing me."

Caspar rubbed his cheek sheepishly with a finger. "Goddess, I forgot I said that --" 

Linhardt leaned down and kissed him. It was short and quick, but he hoped it would get his feelings across. 

Caspar beamed at him. "Oh. Yeah, I could do that again."

"So could I." The amount of sheer affection he was feeling for Caspar at the moment was almost more than he could bear.

Caspar hesitantly reached out and grabbed Linhardt's hand, who squeezed it back. "I didn't think you liked me back! I thought for sure I was going to make things weird!"

Linhardt smiled. "Caspar, of course I like you. I've always liked you."

"What?!" There it was, Caspar's indignation. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

Linhardt squeezed his hand, smile wavering. "I didn't want to _make things weird_." 

Caspar laughed at that. "Okay, you got me." He wobbled a bit on his feet, and rubbed his forehead. "Oh, no, okay, I forgot how tired I am."

"Why don't we take a nap together?"

Caspar pulled Linhardt by the hand into his room. "That sounds like a really good idea."


End file.
